


Hallelujah (He is Risen)

by theescapist99



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Religious Content, Suicide mention, angst angst angst, percival and credence had an established relationship before the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theescapist99/pseuds/theescapist99
Summary: When he was done -- Ma' promised -- Saint Peter would inform you whether you were going to heaven or hell – and the whole purpose of our mortal existence is to do everything possible to make sure it was the latter.At this point where he levitated over a gaggle of wizards – wands outstretched and pointed at the black cloud of embodied rage that had wreaked havoc on their city – Credence Barebone hardly expected that he had managed to fulfill that purpose.And as he screamed -- while the lights shooting out from the tips of their wands pierced through him like holy water vanquishes demons – Credence almost expected to wake in the deepest circle hell would have to offer.What Credence did not expect – however -- was to wake up on the sofa of Percival Graves' living room.





	Hallelujah (He is Risen)

There was pain. 

Unadulterated pain.  

Pain that  ripped through his very flesh, shredding apart his skin and burning away at his eyes.  

And then, for at least few minutes (maybe an hour), there was nothing. 

Ma' had always proclaimed that every living human being would stand at the pearly white gates to be judged by Saint Peter.  

He'd relay to you a summary of your sins, and Credence had always imagined a small old man marking off some kind of long checklist, as he counted each any every unholy act one had committed over the span of a lifetime.  

When he was done -- Ma' promised -- Saint Peter would inform you whether you were going to heaven or hell – and the whole purpose of our mortal existence is to do everything possible to make sure it was the latter.  

At this point where he levitated over a gaggle of wizards – wands outstretched and pointed at the black cloud of embodied rage that had wreaked havoc on their city – Credence Barebone hardly expected that he had managed to fulfill that purpose.  

And as he screamed -- while the lights shooting out from the tips of their wands pierced through him like holy water vanquishes demons – Credence almost expected to wake in the deepest circle hell would have to offer. 

What Credence did not expect – however -- was to wake up on the sofa of Percival Graves' living room.  

After the lull of nothingness, Credence had started to think that perhaps the Christian faith had had it wrong all along.  Perhaps, the only eternity that followed death was indeed the absence of life.  

So you might imagine how confused Credence was then – to wake in neither heaven, nor hell, and yet to still have woken at all.  

He bolted upright, sitting up on the couch where he had apparently been laying. His chest heaved, and Credence's ragged clothing stuck to him through a heavy mixture of blood and sweat. The room spun, his vision blurry.  

"You're awake." 

A familiar voice – husky and deep – caused Credence to look to his right. He found a sight that made both him recoil and jump simultaneously.  

Percival Graves was sitting in lavish leather armchair right across from him (known to be Percival's personal favorite).  

Legs crossed, dressed to the nines, and a filled whiskey glass in one hand – Percival looked like the poster boy for some kind of expensive liquor advertisement. Although, Credence mused bitterly, with Percival's looks and charisma, the bastard could probably sell anything really.  

" _You_..." Credence glared, willing his fragile anger to conceal his emotional wounds and his still desperate cravings for the older man's affections, "...what do  _you_ want? Why are you here?" 

Percival frowned, but did not look angry at the disrespectful tone. In truth, it registered to Credence that Percival looked a little hurt -- and he hated himself for feeling guilty about the revelation.  

After everything Credence just had to endure, whatever Mr. Graves had to worry about was probably mere peanuts.  

"I want to apologize, my boy," Percival responded finally, his voice weary and mournful, "Do you remember the dangerous man I once told you about? Gellert Grindelwald?"  

"The dark wizard?" Credence thought back, but his memories were hazy. It was honestly challenge enough to follow basic conversation. 

"Yes," Percival nodded glumly, his hand swirling around the amber liquid in his cup but never bringing it up to his lips for a drink, "Well, he came to New York after all. It is very hard to explain without use of wizard jargon and terminology you probably would not know, but to put it simply: he stole my identity."  

Credence studied him. His gaze was still heavily scrutinizing and apprehensive, but the angry glare had dwindled just smidge. He wasn't sure what to make of this information. 

"Wh... what do you mean, he stole your identity? Where were you?" 

Percival grimaced, "Under this very house, trapped in my own basement. Grindelwald needed to keep me alive you see -- the process of stealing ones identity involves having the DNA of the original person handy. He discovered our relationship and he used you to try and aid him into finding the obscurial, knowing that you trusted me. And that's what I am apologizing for, Credence... I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."  

Credence curled into a fetal position – his arms wrapped around his legs as he began to weep openly.  

It was awkward -- just sitting there, sobbing rather than saying anything in response. Yet if Percival was being truthful, Credence  _still_ would not know what to make of it.  

On one hand – the man who he had seen as his only friend in the world did not betray him after all -- and from what it sounded like -- still cared for him to at least some degree. 

On the other – Credence had just destroyed any chance of being accepted into the wizarding world over a magic trick. And what's worse – despite Percival having risked and invested so much in looking after Credence, Credence had not been able to tell that the other had been an imposter.  

It was all too much to take -- particularly after he had been literally slain in the ruins of the train station.  

And yet –surprisingly - the obscurus that had served as his own twisted sense of an allergic reaction to stress was oddly mute.  

Percival stood, putting down the undrunk liquid on a coffee table so that he could come across the shaggy red rug, kneeling before the sofa where he pulled Credence into his arms.  

"I'm sorry," Percival whispered it repeatedly, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."  

Credence quelled his sobbing, his body relaxing in the firm grip of Percival's arms like a conditioned response.  

He mumbled miserably, "I was so confused... I didn't know what I had done wrong... why I upset you... you hit me and I just didn't understand..."  

Although Credence couldn't see Percival's face, he heard the older man's breath hitch and could feel his fists clenching.  

The angry reaction, small as it was, did more to convince Credence that Percival was telling the truth: Percival had never taken kindly to Credence being harmed -- even when he was unable to act on it, the sight or mentions of fresh wounds from Mary Lou Barebone had always sent Percival into a rather dark mood.  

It should have been a dead giveaway when the impersonator had slapped him, but instead Credence – slow as he was – had only been hurt and perplexed.  

In truth, that aggressively protective nature was one of the things Credence had liked about Percival. 

It was never that he wanted to see Percival angry, or that he wanted Percival to act on it and get on trouble on his behalf  (in fact that had always been one of his greatest fears).  

It was more the idea – the possibility, even – that someone cared.  

Credence had fallen head over heels in love with the idea should something happen – amongst the billions of human beings that wouldn't lose a wink of sleep, perhaps Credence had found someone who may actually shed a tear.  

"Oh Credence," Percival cooed into the small of his back, "I would never harm you, not for anything, my boy. Just know that whatever Grindelwald may have done to you, the worst torture I had to endure was the idea that you thought I was committing those acts." 

Credence pushed Percival off lightly, wanting to look him in the eyes as he said, "I forgive you...I forgive you and I'm so sorry..."  

And Percival smiled gently, a hand coming up to caress Credence's jaw. Credence nuzzled into it unabashedly, leaning hard into the hand like a cat in heat.  

The boy continued to sob, "My family is dead, Mr. Graves... Chastity and Ma' at least. I'm not sure where Modesty went. But I'm going to try and find her and when I do... would ...would it be okay if we stayed with you for a while, Mr. Graves?" 

All things considered, Credence still felt embarrassed at such a brazen proposal.  

He wasn't sure what else they could do however, or where else they would be safe. Perhaps if Modesty hadn't been left alive -- if Credence wasn't worried where she might end up, despite the revulsion he saw on her face last – he might not have asked.  

Yet both were true, and so Credence did. 

He figured he would try to make it up to the older man somehow.  

"Credence, I can't," Percival whispered, although he did sound truly remorseful. He stroked a hand down the top of Credence's head, his fingers pressing down firmly against the boy's scalp -- the motion seemed a non verbal way of saying, "I would if I could."  

Credence was never going to argue, of course. Yet it was hard not to sound dejected as he muttered, "I understand. I'm sorry I asked. We can find somewhere else, I'm sure...maybe Mrs. Goldstein's. I can still visit you, can't I?"  

"Credence." 

"What, Mr. Graves?" 

"I'm dead."  

Credence could only stare at Percival, dumbfounded.  

The older man didn’t appear to be joking, and it was highly doubtful that this is a joke he might pull. If it was -- it was an entirely unfunny one.  

"You..." Credence gasped, "... _what_?" 

Percival sighed and continued to pet Credence soothingly, although Credence had no idea how anything could be soothing at this point.  

"I managed to slit my wrists with a dull knife while Grindelwald was away," Percival explained, "I think he had left because you called him, actually. It wasn't exactly pleasant... but at that point it had become pretty clear that my chances of escaping were slim. So it was either die or continue to let Grindelwald use my appearance while committing god knows what heinous acts." 

"But if you're dead..." Credence mused out loud, "How am I... where are we? Is this... is this heaven?" 

 _Could it be?_  

Could it be that God not only exists -- but is so merciful and kind that His promised paradise is personalized to one's true desires? 

Perhaps, God has rewarded Credence for having endured such a painful, hard mortal life.  

If this was truly his heaven – if Credence could spend the rest of infinity in the company of Percival Graves, the  _true_ Percival Graves – then Credence's only earthly regret may just  be that he had not shown God the praise He deserved.  

But Percival smiled again – and it was a somber smile.  

"No, my boy," Percival confessed dolefully, "I believe it's mine. You see..."  

There was hitch in his voice as the older man spoke. For the first time in their acquaintance, Credence saw tears spilling down Percival's typically stoic face.  

"...you're not dead, I am. I think you may have been sent here somehow.. to allow me a chance at forgiveness. We both know I have never been religious, my boy... but to see you again, to tell you that it was not  _me_ who mistreated you so cruelly... it was my dying wish, and I prayed on that before I did what I did. And you're here, and after everything I've told you, I may finally have some chance of resting in peace... but you my boy, you still have a life to live."  

" _No_!" Credence screamed suddenly, horror settling in like powerful nausea, "No! I don't want to go back there... Mr. Graves  _please_ , I want to stay with you!" 

Percival shook his head again, taking Credence's hands into his own. He held onto them tightly, shaking Credence slightly as he pulled them towards himself, "Credence, I know it sounds awful but you'll just have to trust me... I can see many things in this plane of existence. One of them is that you are alive, yes... but another thing is that you  _are_ integral to Grindelwald's downfall. I know it sounds crazy. But my boy... I also know that you become  _so_ much stronger. And I will always,  _always_ watch over you Credence." 

Percival planted a firm kiss on his forehead, and Credence could only sob harder.  

The things that Mr. Graves had said  _did_ sound crazy – and at this point, Credence wasn't sure who to believe or what to believe.  

"We will meet one day again, on this same couch," Percival promised him with a confident tone, "I know Tina and the rest will do everything they  can to protect you in my absence, but no matter what happens... I  _will_ see you again, Credence. And I love you, so very much."  

And then again, abruptly... there was nothing. 

Some unmeasured amount of time later, Credence awoke on a dusty floor of gravel and ruin.  

His heart pounded in his chest with the force of a charging bull, heavily thumping at the jumpstart from an invisible force. He coughed hard, taking in his surroundings in the lighting that was limited from the darkness of the evening sky. 

Credence was on the floor of the destroyed church, he finally deduced.  

Something in the rightmost corner of his peripheral vision caught his attention, despite the lack of anything that could give birth to shine or sparkle.  

Feeling the object beckon him somehow, Credence reached out and pulled it toward him.  

It was a broken crucifix.  

Finally -- Credence understood.  

While Percival may have been granted salvation, perhaps in exchange for his career dedicated to public service -- Credence was being punished for his myriad of sins.  

His lifetime of transgressions and inversion.  

God had granted Percival forgiveness and immortality. Credence had been sentenced to the opposite --He had brought Credence back; returned him to this wretched earth on which Percival Graves no longer lived to comfort or protect him.  

Beside him, Credence could almost hear the ghost of his slain mother sneering. 

"The Lord giveth, Credence. The Lord giveth --- and He taketh away." 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Easter!


End file.
